Of Theives, Gil, Gentlemen, and Accidents
by the cow devil
Summary: Reno, Zidane, and Irvine are all given a special "invitation" by an unknown figure to a second chance at hitting it big. Rated "M" for graphic language, violence, and, of course, sexual themes.


Disclaimer: Look, if I owned Final Fantasy, would I be typing this? No! I would be controlling the world with every last ounce of corporate power Square Enix can have squeezed out of them! I would rule the world with TONBERRIES!

Author's Notes

It's Spring Break, and the Cow Devil is bored, therefore, he decides to become reunited with and however painful it is for him let go of his grudge against them, he has.

"DAMNIT, THEY DESTROYED IT! DELETED EVERY LAST PAGE OF MY MANUSCRIPT! DAMN THEM!"

Thus, this brings us to our feature presentation; _Of Thieves, Gil, Gentlemen, and Accidents_. Sorry if it sucks, but deal with it. He's rusty.

"Ninety-nine bottles of Scotch on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of Scotch, ya take some down, chug 'em down, twenty-three bottles of Scotch on the wall…hic."

Not to mention depressed. The pharmacy denied his Zoloft prescription…again. Nonetheless, we thought you'd like to know that there are characters from multiple Final Fantasies, as the Cow Devil tends to do. As is expected with our employee, it is rated"M" for violence, some graphic language, and, of course, sexual references.

"'Course, hic can't 'ave a story involvin' Irvine, Reno, _an'_ Zidane, hic, wivout 'volvin' some kinda screwin' 'roun'… Is the room tiltin', 'er is it jus' me?"

And, if you believe that we have over/under rated this manuscript, you can either take your comment, shove it up your ass and fart on it, or tell us and we'll consider. All you have to do is review, put your comment in your review, and if we feel like reading it, we'll let you know.

"Seriously, hic I'll ne'r pull that stunt again. Ima gonna be prayin' to the hic porcelain 'till the fic's done. Shit, this burns. Ughhh…"

Well, until next chapter, toodles!

TDC Management

Twelve thirty-eight. Precisely the moment he was to be at the bridge. Who was this mystery person he was to meet? The…thing with long, scrawling handwriting that had left a note on his apartment door three weeks ago, as he dragged his hundredth of a sober self towards it squinting at his keys (in which he had only two; one to his apartment and the spare to his apartment) trying to decide which one was the door key. At last, he had decided to let lady luck step in and chose for him, and, miraculously, he chose the key to open the door. Amazing.

'Late asshole,' he thought, running his slender fingers through his red locks, watching the trash brig take the entire city's junk out into the small "trash island' off in the distance. He had always thought that it would be so easy to chuck bodies down into the brig as it passed under, and no one would ever find them. 'I could be hittin' on Elena now. Sonofabitch had better have a good reason to call me here, or his ass is grass.'

Reno leaned on the railing and looked at the huge stone gargoyles that towered over Neo Midgar. He had heard something about the naming of Midgar. It was earth in Norse, or something like that.

"Every damn thing in the fucked up world of Final Fantasy has some reference to Norse Mythology." Rude had once told him, "Take Odin. Fucker was the 'father god' or some shit like that. Dude's got an eye missing, and he always has these two ravens and wolves with him. Square felt so sorry for the guy they named a summon after him. Sad man, saaaaad man."

Just as Reno was about to go home, a shuriken flew out of nowhere and embedded itself into the steel pole beside him. Attached to it was a note. The note read:

Pardon the inconvenience, sir, but there was a miscalculation in my schedule, and my secretary wrote the wrong date on the note. Our appointment has been rescheduled to _next_ week, in which you're next assignment will be given. Blame my damn secretary, not me. Stupid bitch can't even keep schedules in order, much less write them. I shall act accordingly by pouring molten steel down her throat.

Thanks,

Management

Eyelid twitching, Reno crumpled the note in him hand and tossed it into the trash brig passing by. "Shithead's gonna pay for making me waste a Saturday night happy hour."

He began driving back to his apartment, then decided to call Elena to see if she was in the mood for a little…quality time with the redheaded Turk.

Or should I say Ex-Turk. There was no such thing as a Turk anymore, the blue suits meant nothing, and ShinRa was dead. Instead, a huge company (which Reno suspected was just ShinRa with an alias) known as Devils Incorporated was competing with Crucial Components Corporation (known as CC Corp.) and The Management. All three were equally corrupt. CC Corp sold everything from blank CD's to porn videos containing rabid cows, tonberries, a chocobo, and a Costa del Sol local. Don't ask.

Devils Incorporated, however, was much more popular with the streets of Neo Midgar, as they sold automatic weapons for _very_ cheap, as well as café mocha lattes and frappichinos for less than half of the retail value. Elena had once bought an Uzi for thirty-five cents, and a banana clip to go with it for an extra forty dollars. Notice, we said they sold _weapons_ for cheap, not ammo. After she loaded the gun, she proceeded to point it at the clerk and demand a latte for thirty cents. He gave it to her for free.

The Management was the most curious of the trio, as it sold unusual items not usually bought by people for an extremely unreasonable price, and yet people bought it anyway (similar to Czech antique stores…). Such items included tin cans, toilet paper with Rufus's face on them, foil wrappers, and steel shotgun targets with a naked picture of Scarlet on them. Inconceivably, the toilet paper was their best seller, and even though the targets had a naked woman on the for thirty gil, you could actually fuck her for free at the local strip club, so that wasn't a great selling item, and even the forty gil tin cans sold better than the targets did. Reno thought they were ugly, and hit the stores often during drive by's.

Now, one may ask: "If Reno is no longer a Turk, what is his occupation?" Alas, faithful Reno fan-girls, this answer may cause you to vomit, curse, swear, spit, hiss, punch your lover in the face, send me nasty hate mail, or break into randomly violent spasms, but Reno, the Ex-Turk, is now…

A bag-boy for Lucky Fuk's Porn Distributor.

This may seem to be a perfect occupation for Reno, as one would suspect that there would be many horny women coming to and from it, as well as working there, however, Reno hated his job, and would quit if it were not for the mayor of Neo Midgar making him work there as punishment for "treason against Midgar" during the time he was a Turk.

Lucky Fuk's was none other than a gay porn faculty.

Reno hated Lucky Fuk's.

Zidane was livin' the good life. After the incident at the Lifa Tree, he and Garnet decided to settle down in Lindblum and have children. A few weeks later, Tribal and the newlywed Mrs. Tribal decided "Fuck the kids." They now make sex tapes and post them online for all to see. They are extremely successful, and their accomplishments dwarf even those of the renowned Ninja-Slut Yuffie. If you don't know yet, I hate Yuffie. She will most likely die a painful "hoarific" (get it? _Hoar_ific?) death pertaining rabid cows, tonberries, chocobos, and a Costa del Sol local. Don't ask. Hence, if you like Yuffie in any way other than her raunchy sex appeal, click back now. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Beatrix and Steiner were happy, although no one knew where they were, nor cared. However, Vivi kept receiving letters with magazine clippings stating the following:

I have the two knights. Bring me ten million gil or you'll never see "Rusty" again.

Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Ha. Ha ha. Ha.

Signed,

Joe

This note was then followed by another that was written in the same fashion, stating that even though this was the four thousandth time they had sent the ransom, they were still serious. Vivi always burned the note, then proceeded to drool at pictures of black mages that came in his _Funky Fetish Weekly_ magazine.

Reno envied Zidane's luckiness with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.

Irvine was alone. He had lost his trigger finger in a bar fight, got his face burned horribly by Burger King french fry grease when he tried to rob it of its McChickens (which he denied all claims that they had none), and lost his trenchcoat during the arson of his mother's house, which he hadcommitted while drunk. Irvine was miserable.

Thus, the main characters of this story have been introduced, and their current histories have been examined by persons such as yourselves. Next chapter, we will get into the messy business of plot, which, as I am drunk as a rampaging Turk in a Wutai bar, will be very bad indeed. I have a general idea, but hell, I'll screw around 'till the damn hangover's passed, write some more, and then proceed to drown my ideas in Scotch. Again. 'Till next chapter folks, fhic you! (and don't forget to review! hic)

The Cow Devil

Note, the "TDC Management" (as seen in the author's notes) is not an actual company, but just my conscience(s). Whenever "they" speak, I am usually half naked, writing a crazed story with a fresh bottle of Redbreast by my side. In other words, I hate them.


End file.
